


Rent Party

by opalsandlace



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21821896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalsandlace/pseuds/opalsandlace
Summary: Bucky is forced from the comfort of his bed to go out and socialize.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Kudos: 37





	Rent Party

**Author's Note:**

> this is a little one-shot I originally posted on tumblr
> 
> story-inspired board https://www.pinterest.com/mushwrites/rent-party/

The tower was quiet, finally. The loudest members of the team, Sam, Tony, Peter, Clint and were all out for various reasons. Sam had a date. Tony had a speaking engagement. The other two? Bucky didn’t know for sure. Nor did he care. Everyone else was presumably tucked away in some corner of the tower, not making a peep.

Bucky shuffled into his room, suede slippers scuffing softly on the smooth floor. One hand gripped a thick book, the other carried a mug of tea. He had been waiting for this moment all week. It was late enough that everyone was either away or preoccupied. It was early enough that he had all evening to devour his latest bookstore find.

Kicking off his slippers, he reclined on his bed. He fluffed and arranged his pillows into the perfect nest. He threw a blanket across his lap, took a sip of tea, and opened to the first chapter. A hundred pages in, there was a knock at the door. Bucky scowled. Whoever it was would go away, maybe assume he was asleep. The pest knocked again. Bucky buried his nose between the pages, determined to have the evening to himself.

The door swung open and Steve barged in. Bucky made a mental note to lock his door from then on.

“Get up. We’re going out,” Steve ordered. He was half-dressed. He wore an undershirt and…trousers? The cut seemed oddly familiar. They were loose on the leg, fitted at the waist, and sharply creased.

Bucky regarded the super soldier suspiciously.

“Who is ‘we’?” he questioned.

“The two of us. Me and you. You and me. _We_ ,” he bantered. “Now, get off your ass, grandma. We’re going out on the town.”

Bucky dogeared the page. He reached for his mug and took a lengthy gulp.

“No,” he retorted from over the rim of his cup.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand over his heart.

“C’mon, Buck. It would mean a lot.”

Bucky scowled.

“Where are we going?” he sighed.

Steve grinned.

“Rent party, just like back in the day.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed.

“I don’t have the kinda clothes for that.”

“Yeah, you do. Check your closet.” Steve stood and strolled to the bedroom door. “Be ready in an hour. And try to look nice.”

“Whatever, punk,” Bucky mumbled. He really needed to lock his door.

“Jerk!” Steve called from the hallway.

Bucky obviously wasn’t going to have the night he had been hoping for. He opened the closet to see what Steve had snuck inside. There was a full outfit, and not from today’s trends. Hanging up was a pair of trousers similar to the ones Steve had been wearing. There was also a white button-up shirt, suspenders, and leather dress shoes. Bucky frowned. He knew where this night was going. He’d play along for now. When Steve realized Bucky wasn’t having a good time, he could go back to his book.

Bucky took his time showering and getting ready. An hour was plenty. He shaved, dabbed on a bit of cologne, and slicked his hair back with some pomade. If he was going to be miserable, he might as well look nice. The clothes Steve had gotten him fit suspiciously well, even the shoes. Someone had been planning this. Dressed and only moderately self-conscious about how he looked, Bucky went off to find Steve.

“Well don’t you clean up nice!” Steve clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Hope you’re ready for a good time.”

**(Recommended listening: “Sing, sing, sing” – Benny Goodman)**

Bucky was not having a good time. The event was nice. Wonderful, really. He just felt hopelessly out of place. The “rent party” was a fundraiser for the local veteran’s nonprofit. There was a full band with a horn section and both a tenor and soprano. The spacious dance floor was crowded with couples and singles moving on the ones and twos. Nearly every attendee was dressed to the nines in forties fashion. Bucky fit right in.

The tailored trousers fit just right, the perfect counterpart to the white Oxford shirt. Bucky had rolled up the sleeves and left the collar undone. Cuff links and ties weren't his style. Not tonight. One foot tapped absentmindedly to the music. A hand fiddled with the cloth covering the table where he sat.

Steve had long since found his rhythm. After whirling a blonde away to another partner, he quickly fell into step with a brunette. The two coasted across the dance floor in perfect swing time, skirt and shirt tails a blur. Bucky watched as his best friend charmed each dance partner as only he could. As soon as he'd stepped onto the floor, he had gathered quite the audience. In no time, he'd danced up a sweat. Bucky couldn't help but to see the irony in the situation. Steve was out wooing the dames while he sat on the sidelines. What he wouldn't have given to be back in bed with his book. He could make another cup of tea, perhaps a whole pot. He could raid the kitchen for a late-night snack, too. He could even finish the novel tonight.

Lost in his thoughts, Bucky hardly noticed Y/N plop down beside him. After dancing through three songs straight, she'd lost a few bobby pins and caught a run in her stockings. Even with a sheen of sweat on her brow, her smile could hardly get any wider.

**(Recommended listening: “Bolero at the Savoy” – Anita O’Day)**

"Whew! I need a drink!" she breathed.

Bucky arched a brow, surprised both by her presence and her outburst. 

"That kinda night, huh?" he wondered.

Y/N fanned herself with her hand.

"Yeah, they've got the best Shirley Temple in the city," she grinned.

"What are you, twelve?" he smirked.

She crossed her legs and leaned forward to look him in the eye. The sweet notes of her perfume drifted to his senses.

"I'll have you know I'm well over the legal age, Sergeant," she said coyly.

Bucky racked his brain for a flirtatious retort. Something. _Anything_. 

She had great legs. _That's shallow._

She had a radiant smile. _That's cliché._

He wanted to get to know her better. _That's too forward._

By the time Bucky fixed his mouth to say something, he looked up and was met with the sight of her walking away.

_Dammit._

Bucky quickly lost sight of the navy blue of her dress in the crowd. He looked around for a glimpse of the cream-colored peony in her hair. No luck. He’d clearly lost his chance at whatever something that could have been. He distracted himself by watching the footwork of the dancers before him. He felt he almost remembered the steps, like a dream that disappears just as your eyes open.

“Thought you looked a little parched, Sergeant,” her voice singing through the fog of his drifting thoughts.

Bucky blinked dumbly. He’d thought for sure she was lost to the crowd of wingtipped shoes and flouncing skirts.

“Am I gonna have to down these both myself?” She held out a glass of cerise liquid.

Bucky took the glass and thanked her. He took a careful sip. The tartness pulled at his cheeks and made him squint.

“What do you think?” Y/N asked, taking the seat closest to Bucky. Her knee brushed against his in the process.

“It’s, uh, not hard liquor. That’s for sure,” he replied, swirling the swizzle stick around the glass.

She laughed, clear and melodic mixing in with the music.

“They make their grenadine syrup in house,” she explained, lips painted the same shade as the sugary drink.

“And they use pomegranate seeds instead of cherries,” Bucky added.

“So, you do know about a Shirley Temple!” she laughed again.

She smiled easily, he thought, like she was in her element here.

“I know a thing or two,” he chuckled.

The two sat in amicable silence, people-watching.

**(Recommended listening: “A You’re Adorable – Jimmy Dorsey)**

“Oh, I love this song!” Y/N swayed in her seat. “Let’s dance!”

Bucky nearly choked on his drink.

“I don’t dance,” he said firmly.

“Excuse me? Who comes to a dance and does not dance?” she scoffed.

“Me,” he downed his drink, “I was brought here against my will.”

Y/N laughed in earnest.

“This is a pretty nice place to be held hostage.” She stood and held out her hand. “Just one dance? Don’t make me beg.”

Bucky licked his lips. Maybe he could embarrass himself. Just this once.

* * *

“I gotta say. I’m a little rusty,” he said bashfully, placing one hand in Y/N’s hand and the other on the small of her back.

Y/N smiled up at him.

“It’s like riding a bike. You never really forget how. Just follow my lead.”

Y/N counted the steps in his ear.

“Rock, step, triple-step.”

Heat rose to Bucky’s cheeks.

“Step, step, triple-step.”

She didn’t complain when he stepped on her toes. No, she laughed good-naturedly and continued to teach him with patience.

“Rock, step, triple-step.”

He hadn’t noticed her eyes before. The dark brown gems were framed with long lashes. They crinkled when she smiled.

“Step, step, triple-step.”

She smelled of flowers and toothache-sweet drinks.

“Rock, step, triple-step.”

Her face reddened almost imperceptibly. He was staring too hard.

“I think you’ve got it, Sergeant,” she murmured.

“Please, call me Bucky.”

“Bucky,” she repeated with a smile, “You’re a natural.”

“A smile like that is quite the incentive,” he said huskily.

Fours songs later, they made their way back to the table. Their conversation drifted from dance to drinks and random topics in between.

Bucky cleared his throat.

“Maybe you could teach me some new steps…next time,” he offered.

Y/N arched a brow.

“Are you asking me out, Bucky?”

“I am,” he replied carefully. “If I may ask your name.”

“You may,” she smiled. “After this dance.”

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is welcome, as always!


End file.
